


Satisfaction Brought It Back

by so_it_shines



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Post-Episode: c02e044 The Diver's Grave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_it_shines/pseuds/so_it_shines
Summary: ‘Ah.’ Fjord turned his back to open the cabinet, hiding his flushed face. ‘You know, that kinda behaviour is gonna get you in trouble one of these days. I heard that curiosity killed the cat.’‘Ja, but satisfaction brought it back.’‘Pardon?’‘That is the rest of the saying. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.’[...]‘Are you?’‘Am I what?’ Fjord furrowed his brow, confused.Caleb pushed himself up from the seat and leaned over Fjord, reaching for the whisky bottle. His fingers coming to rest on top of Fjord's.‘Satisfied?’
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 148





	Satisfaction Brought It Back

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'mma level with you. I fired this out in one insomnia-fueled go at like 2am. This is not representative of my writing skills. 
> 
> This hasn't even been proof read. I should probably hold off on posting it, and I probably will come back to edit it at a later date, but today is not that date. 
> 
> Don't forget to validate me by leaving a comment! 
> 
> Love u xx

‘Can’t sleep?’ a voice slipped through gentle swirls of sea breeze to reach Fjord’s hearing, low and clear, words soft and worn by the familiar accent of their progenitor.

He didn’t need to turn around to identify the man he assumed was now approaching. His presence felt inevitable to the whisky-logic of Fjord’s brain, and the sting of his freshly cut hand seemed to agree. Fjord squeezed his fist tight and held it to his chest as he leant forwards over the side of the ship, taking another swig.

Footsteps now. Then silence. Either Caleb was close enough that Fjord could hear his ragged, slow breaths, or Fjord’s mind was filling in the blanks.

‘That obvious?’ Fjord steeled himself and turned, eyes pointed too low to see the face of his companion, instead meeting the worn cloth of a familiar shirt. He dredged a wry chuckle from his clenched up diaphragm. ‘Figured I’d find me some liquid company and make a night of it’.

He raised his eyes to meet Caleb’s, fighting the slipstream downwards towards the deck of the ship and his own boots, which had no opinion with regard to his behaviour earlier.

Caleb had propped himself against the edge of the ship, back facing the sea, and was staring intently at Fjord with those damnable blue eyes. Eyes that had taken in the manic energy Fjord had exuded below in Dashilla’s lair. Which either understood or merely humoured. Which either matched his intensity or threw it mockingly back in his face.

Fjord held that gaze with all the fortitude of a man treading water at the edge of a whirlpool, and cocked an eyebrow. Quirked a lip.

‘Having some trouble catching those pesky zees yourself, Widogast?’ He stretched the vowels out like taffy in his mouth and snapped the consonants.

‘Ja, just like you say, Fjord, I cannot catch those, eh, pesky zees. Perhaps we have similar reasons for our failed capture?’ Caleb’s lips betrayed the hint of an amused smile, and with his words he cocked an eyebrow of his own, damn him.

Fjord held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned his eyes back to a slightly more fathomable depth. The sea was unsympathetically calm, almost as though it were mocking Fjord for his irrepressible restlessness.

‘Perhaps we do, although I’m sure I couldn’t say what might be going through that big, smart head of yours.’

‘Do you think me big-headed, Fjord?’ The words had a tone to them that made Fjord’s cheeks flush and his confidence fumble its footing. An edge of rumbling amusement at Fjord’s clumsy phrasing.

‘That’s, uh, I meant, ugh,’ Fjord shook his head in the hopes it might clear away the whisky-fog, ‘you know what I meant.’

‘I am only teasing, Fjord,’ Caleb’s voice was soft now, ‘trying to lighten this sombre mood somewhat.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’ Fjord took a swig. If he couldn’t sober up for this conversation, then he might as well get drunker.

‘Enough in that for two?’

Fjord turned with surprise. Caleb nodded towards the bottle, seeming almost sheepish in his demeanour. He offered Fjord a wry smile.

Fjord proffered the bottle. Caleb took it gratefully and took a hefty swig.

They stood in silence for a while, passing the bottle to and fro, wind gently ruffling their hair. Caleb did not seem in any particular hurry to bring up the subject that Fjord was dreading, and that did wonders for Fjord’s frayed nerves.

He watched Caleb, his lines softened and smoothed by the deft brush of moonlight, his features cast in chiaroscuro. The soft curve of his cheek, the shadows under his eyes, the way his fingers bent around the bottle neck as he tipped it to his lips. Whisky made Fjord sentimental, he supposed. The Caleb of tonight was almost unrecognisable from the Caleb who had met Fjord’s gaze like flint against steel. Who had taken Fjord’s proffered hand and shook on-

Gods knew what they had shook on. Solidarity in madness, perhaps.

Fjord felt a little mad. A little drunk on curiosity and impulse. And a little drunk on whisky.

‘Caleb-‘ it came out on an exhale, almost so softly that it was carried away on the breeze. He cleared his throat. ‘Caleb’.

Caleb lowered the bottle and turned to face Fjord, his head tilted, inquisitive.

‘Caleb-‘ Fjord said, meeting the full force of Caleb’s gaze and daring himself to dive on in.

‘Yes, Fjord, that is my name.’ The words were teasing, but Caleb’s tone was soft. Encouraging.

‘We almost sank the ship.’

‘Ja, almost.’

‘I would’ve gone through with it, I think. If the others hadn’t been there. If the others hadn’t-‘

A pause. An exhale.

‘Ja, I know.’

Another pause. A sharp inhale.

‘I really would’ve.’

‘I would have let you. I would have helped.’

‘I don’t know whether to be grateful for your support, or horrified by the both of us.’ Fjord huffed a wry little laugh.

Caleb hummed under his breath. Took a swig from the bottle and passed it back to Fjord.

‘I think you can be both. I do not think every feeling must be straightforward.’

Fjord accepted the bottle and tipped it to his lips. It was feeling decidedly lighter. Unless Caleb had the constitution of a giant he must be in a similar state to Fjord by now. His face felt flushed and he could no longer feel the chill of the late night air. He twisted his body around so that he was facing Caleb more fully and held out the bottle.

Caleb reached out to take the whisky, and as his fingers closed around the neck of the bottle, they brushed Fjord’s. Caleb’s hand were warm despite the chill around, but Fjord shivered nonetheless. Fjord fumbled as he disengaged.

Caleb upended the bottle, moonlight refracting through the amber glass to cast a flush on Caleb’s face and exposed neck. Fjord fancied he could almost see the pulse beat beneath that pale, freckled skin. Hot, reckless blood ran through Caleb’s veins. The same blood which ran through Fjord’s.

Fjord flexed his injured hand.

‘I seem to have finished us off, Fjord.’ Caleb waggled the now empty whisky bottle in Fjord’s direction. ‘Perhaps we should go in search of more.’

Caleb’s words were heavy and slow as molasses. Fjord noticed the colour in Caleb’s cheeks even in the washed out moonlight.

Caleb moved to push himself upright, and staggered a little. Fjord moved to steady him, conscious that his own equilibrium was similarly impaired. Caleb succeeded in steadying himself against Fjord’s proffered forearm. Fjord’s other hand braced against his hip.

‘I think I may be more inebriated than I previously supposed,’ Caleb enunciated carefully, words muffled slightly against Fjord’s shoulder. He tapped the empty bottle against Fjord’s chest and lifted his face to Fjord’s ear, his stubbled jaw dragging long and slow against Fjord’s skin and his hot breath accompanying every syllable as he whispered: ‘danke, mein freund.’

Fjord shivered. He didn’t feel the cold.

Caleb continued, in a low murmur, ‘I think perhaps I am incapable of more philosophising tonight. But in case I have not made myself clear, I appreciate you, Fjord.’

‘Caleb-‘

‘Sometimes you have to get a little bit crazy.’

Fjord inhaled, sharply.

‘Caleb-‘

Fjord didn’t know how to continue that sentence.

Caleb pulled back a little. They were face to face now, a hair’s breadth apart.

‘Fjord,’ Caleb smiled.

Fjord cleared his throat.

‘Crazy, huh?’ His voice sounded choked, rough. Obvious.

Caleb patted Fjord on the arm and stepped away, twisting deftly out of the hand’s grip at his waist.

Fjord watched for a moment as Caleb began to stumble towards the stairs that led to the crew quarters. His arm felt cold where Caleb had been holding it.

‘Wait, Caleb,’ he called out, softly, hoarse. Somehow he found his feet moving underneath him and his hand reached out unbidden to catch Caleb’s elbow.

‘Ja,’ Caleb turned to meet his eyes once more, something incomprehensible in his expression. As incomprehensible as arcane runes on an undersea altar. As incomprehensible as the urge to rend his flesh and spill his blood in pursuit of curiosity. He gestured towards the empty bottle hanging loosely in Caleb’s grip.

‘I thought we were going to go in search of more.’

Caleb huffed a small, voiceless laugh.

‘Silly me, how could I forget?’ He slid his elbow out of Fjord’s grasp, replacing it with a jumble of clumsy fingers intertwined with Fjord’s own. ‘Lead the way, Captain.’

Fjord grinned, a little giddy, a little scared of what he might do next, and tugged Caleb towards the Captain’s quarters.

Caleb came readily, and Fjord felt the same flush of excitement and fear that he had felt in Dashilla’s lair. Here was a man who would follow where he lead. Who never did anything he didn’t want to do and yet somehow did the things that Fjord asked him to. Whose every move served his own interest and who somehow, bafflingly, seemed content to serve Fjord’s. The trust and confidence Caleb held in him felt as vital and as filling and as alien as the seawater they had breathed so many hours ago and although a voice inside him whispered that the spell couldn’t last forever, Fjord allowed himself to be swept along in its current.

They reached the door to the captain’s cabin and Fjord reluctantly slipped his hand out of Caleb’s in order to fumble with the door.

They slipped inside and Fjord strode over to the desk, where he began his hunt for the second bottle of whisky that he knew was in there somewhere.

‘It is even nicer up close,’ Caleb whistled appreciatively.

‘Up close?’

‘Oh ja, I saw it before when I was spying on you and Avantika.’

Fjord stopped what he was doing, his cheeks flaming.

‘Dare I ask?’ Fjord scratched the back of his neck.

‘Oh yes, Frumpkin spied on you a couple of times from the balcony there,’ Caleb said, a wicked smile flickering over his face as he flopped down on one of the chairs in front of Avantika’s desk. ‘Don’t worry, we didn’t see much, just enough to get the general idea.’

‘Ah.’ Fjord turned his back to open a cabinet, hiding his face. ‘You know, that kinda behaviour is gonna get you in trouble one of these days. I heard that curiosity killed the cat.’

‘Ja, but satisfaction brought it back.’

‘Pardon?’

‘That is the rest of the saying. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.’

‘Of course you would know a thing like that,’ Fjord laughed, embarrassment fading a little as the focus shifted off his, ahem, prior activities.

‘The saying distressed me a lot as a boy. I did not very much like the idea of dead cats.’

‘That is adorably on brand’. Fjord emerged from under the desk, triumphant with another bottle of whisky. He walked around the desk and perched on the edge in front of Caleb.

‘Are you?’

‘Am I what?’ Fjord furrowed his brow, confused.

Caleb pushed himself up from the seat and leaned over Fjord, reaching for the whisky bottle. His fingers encircled Fjord’s where they clasped it loosely.

‘Satisfied?’

Caleb was very close once more and Fjord could almost feel the hitch in his breath through the huff of warm air tickling his ear. Caleb didn’t make any motions to lift the bottle, instead his hand remained on top of Fjord’s. His thighs remained pressed against Fjord’s. His other hand remained braced on Fjord’s knee.

Fjord’s universe was suddenly very small. It consisted of the warmth emanating from Caleb’s body, and their mingling, irregular breaths. He wanted to clarify Caleb’s meaning, wanted to ask him what he was specifically referring to so as to avoid an embarrassing misunderstanding. He opened his mouth to say so and felt Caleb’s nose brush against his cheekbone, Caleb’s lips brush soft as a whisper against his jaw.

‘Not yet,’ Fjord breathed, ‘I think I need a little help with that.’

The next few seconds seemed to last longer than the rest of the evening combined. When he sobered up the next day, Fjord would be horrified and awed that he ever got the words out. He would wonder how he had managed to stand the wait.

It wasn’t a long wait.

Caleb lifted his hand from the whisky bottle and brought it up slowly, shakily, to Fjord’s face. Using the barest touch, he tilted Fjord’s jaw just enough that their noses bumped, and Fjord could feel Caleb’s breath on his lips.

He chased that breath for the final few millimetres it took to meet Caleb’s lips.

Gently, hesitantly at first, but then Caleb slipped his hand into Fjord’s hair and pulled, and-

‘Satisfaction brought it back, huh?’ Fjord gasped into Caleb’s mouth. Caleb took advantage of the opening and slid his tongue against Fjord's. That seemed like an acceptable answer to Fjord.

Fjord loosened his white-knuckled grip on the whisky bottle and slid his hand instead around Caleb’s waist, drawing him in closer, shifting his weight on the desk so that he could free up the hand he was using to balance himself and slide it underneath Caleb’s shirt. Caleb’s other hand was sliding dangerously up Fjord’s thigh.

Unwilling to let Caleb call all of the shots, Fjord pulled back a little, catching Caleb’s lower lip on the rough edge of a budding tusk. Caleb’s breath hitched and he tightened his grip on Fjord’s hair.

‘Ah,’ Caleb panted, smirking against Fjord’s mouth, ‘now I see why they call you Captain Tusktooth’.

Fjord groaned, partially at the awful joke, and partially for unrelated reasons. Unrelated reasons like the scratch of stubble against his chin, and the lips that had now found their way to the pulse point on his neck.

‘Since you’re so familiar with the layout of these quarters-‘ Fjord began, his train of thought not terribly robust due to the alcohol and the fingers creeping their way towards his belt buckle, ‘- you’re probably aware that there’s a bed through that way.’ He jerked his head in the aforementioned direction.

‘Mmm,’ Caleb replied, helpfully.

‘Ah-‘ Fjord tried to gather his thoughts but he dropped them pretty quickly as he heard the snick of his belt coming undone. He thought about how far away that bed was, and how close Caleb was right now. And impulse decisions tend to go best when there isn’t much thinking involved.

‘What were you saying, Fjord?’ Caleb asked, voice breathless and low and rasping.

Yeah, no. The bed could wait. There was a perfectly good desk right there.

They could make this work.

**Author's Note:**

> Not be be nsfq (not safe for quarantine) but I'd sure love to hold a hand right now! Sure would like to engage in suggestive whisky drinking under the stars with someone hot right now! 
> 
> I hope these ravings of a touch starved lunatic helped fill the void for you guys for the approximately 5 mins it took to read it <3
> 
> If you can't think of a comment based on this fic feel free to just tell me your most nsfq fantasies (mine is sitting in a crowded coffee shop and maybe, like, flirting badly with a pretty barista, hands brushing lightly as she passes me my soya latte) and we can like, yearn and shit in solidarity idk dudes it's 3.30am give me a break


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